


More Than Enough

by Aurumite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Telepathy, UNCLE KURTH, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/pseuds/Aurumite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the third time that day, Kurth found himself hovering in Ena's doorway. </p><p>“Sister?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Echinoderma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echinoderma/gifts).



> Nagamas fic 3/3 for Jen! Thanks so much to rosage for beta'ing/helping me remember FE10's entire plot.

For the third time that day, in breaks between meetings, Kurth found himself hovering in Ena's doorway. He knew she could sense his presence there, but he still called her, forced his mouth around the word. It felt natural on his tongue but stank of his need for reassurance:

“Sister?”

“Your Majesty. Here to see him again?”

The formality made Kurth's stomach twist. He tried to shove the ache aside, in case she could sense that, too. Embarrassed, he admitted, “I can't resist.”

“My grandfather has visited every hour to dote, and your lady sister has been by today as well.”

“Ah, well.” There was a smile in Ena's reply, so Kurth shifted his weight, and then entered in measured steps. “In that case.”

Ena's rooms were open and well-lit, and had a good view between the stone pillars of her balcony. She lounged on a low couch between two of them, just staring out into the distance, with no book to occupy her hands or mind. Goldoa's lands began to shimmer toward the horizon from the dry air and heat, and Kurth knew that beyond that was a sparkling ocean, sighing out the cool breeze meeting them at that moment.

The lines around Ena's mouth were too deep for her age. It was perhaps to be expected for a new mother, but Kurth also sensed her suffering, felt it pooling constantly at the edges of her thoughts. He wasn't sure if Ena herself was even aware of how constantly it leaked from her.

His thoughts were soon pulled to the cradle at her couch's side, however. Since he had Ena's permission, and apparently wasn't making too much of a fool out of himself, he went to it and peered down at the child within, unable to keep the gladness from his voice.

“Hello again, Rajaion.”

Kurth had never seen a baby before his nephew. He seemed much smaller and more fragile than should be allowed, despite the obvious resemblance to his father, whom Kurth had always viewed as tall and invincible. The spacing of his eyes, the jet-black hair, the red mark in the middle of his forehead were all the same. But he had a spark of his own self already: two additional red lines sweeping up from his soft jaw to his softer cheekbones, as if to bring all attention to a little button nose that Kurth knew would grow long and straight but couldn't quite imagine, yet.

The last time he visited, Rajaion had been crying, but now he seemed quite content to absently kick his feet and stare at the ceiling. Like every visit before, Kurth wanted to laugh, or cry himself, or perhaps just curl up on the ground and give up on emotion entirely, and he became so caught that he couldn't do anything but stare.

“Would you like to hold him again?” Ena asked, making him jump.

“Oh! Yes—please, if it isn't any trouble.”

He felt bad for making her rise, but too nervous to scoop his hands into the cradle and pick Rajaion up himself. His little neck was still so fragile, and Kurth was still nervous thinking about the damage he'd been able to cause with his own two hands—in his dragon form, yes, but was he not the same person in this smaller one?

But then the warm bundle was pressed into his arms, and his doubt faded. Kurth held him close. When the impulse rose to kiss the impossibly tiny point of Rajaion's ear, he didn't push it away, and instead bent to do so. Ena sat again. It felt like a vote of confidence.

For the next half-hour he carried his nephew around, who seemed happy to be held. He paced the balcony, showing him the view, murmuring anecdotes and nothings about his kingly day to him. Occasionally he even nudged him with his mind, little ticklish prods, just to help him practice.

“The world goes a lot farther than you can see, Rajaion. It can be very dangerous, but it's very beautiful, too. Do you think you'll go explore it, someday?”

Rajaion gurgled emphatically.

“I see,” Kurth answered, with a wise nod that evoked more gurgling. “Yes, very true.”

Ena rose once more as he returned. She smiled again as he set her son down into his cradle as gently as possible, but there was something old and soft and sad around the corners.

“I think you're a natural with children, Lord Kurthnaga.”

He was silent for a moment, studying Rajaion again, before he turned to her. His mouth felt chalk-dry but he couldn't avoid it any longer.

“There's no need to use a title with me, Ena. There never was.”

“You are my king,” she replied. He could see that they weren't empty words; she was studying him too, testing him.

“I am your brother,” he corrected softly. “And uncle to your son.”

“Rajaion and I were never formally married. You have no obligation to call yourself these things.”

“I want to,” he protested. “Is it pride, that makes you say all this? Guilt? Is it just that you want space from us, until all this is further behind us?”

Ena opened her mouth but nothing emerged, and after a polite beat of waiting, Kurth continued:

“You may have it. But no matter what, you are part of our family now. You have been from the moment he fell for you, and even his death can not change that. Don't...please don't think otherwise. Please.”

He couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

There was a long moment of nothing at all, and he set his teeth against it, willing himself to keep his thoughts calm and clear. Then he felt her gently pull aside the fringe of his consciousness, reaching out to see the raw underbelly of his feelings, and he opened himself completely to her. He let her see his bitter loneliness in the nights he laid awake, staring into his books but unable to read the words on the pages; the afternoons spent watching Ena's strong shoulders beneath his brother's arm and absorbing her as his newer, quieter sister; his love for the child before them with his little fingers and dark shock of hair and the tiny obsidian scales between his knuckles. It was already a love so great he could weep over it.

And then he could feel her too, the oceans of her grief, Petrine's piercing voice in her ears, his elder brother's warmth seeping away in her arms, the heat and pressure of the sobs caught in her throat. There were memories of Kurthnaga himself showing her flowers and seashells in his just-past childhood, and pride for the young man before her now, and a swell of relief that kept rolling and growing since the moment he appeared in the doorway. Kurth really was weeping by the time their connection broke. It was not a sudden snap but slow and gentle, a wave ebbing, caramel pulling apart in a long string. She'd done so much to preserve his family—their family—and it all had come to nothing but her son.

“But that's enough,” Kurth said aloud as he tried to scrub his tears away. “Is it not?”

“More than enough,” said Ena.

“And yet you've been through so much, all to protect him.” He reached for the thick, sticky mourning still seeping from her, as if to brush it away with his thumbs. “I want to keep you protected, now. You and my nephew both. It's all I can think about.”

Her smile turned genuine as she gazed into the cradle. Her son reached his arms up for her.

Kurth shared the sentiment. Connecting their minds had been powerful, but he wished for more. He wanted to throw his arms around her the way he'd seen Almedha hold Pelleas, an instinct he wasn't born with but had absorbed from the people outside Goldoa.

“Lord Kurth,” Ena said, though she didn't look away from Rajaion. There was a tinge of fondness in her voice. He felt it against his mind at the same time, like a squeeze to his fingers. “I understand, now. I am not the only one who suffers from this loss; I know. Please forgive my cautiousness.”

“You have learned to be cautious, and rightly so.”

“I would also learn to be a sister again, if I can.” Her smile turned sly. “And I can still read my little brother. Would you prefer to share this moment as the beorc do?”

 _Were_ he beorc, Kurth would have blushed scarlet, mortified to be caught. “I find their customs fascinating, but—I know it's strange; I would never presume to—”

“I've spent so much time outside Goldoa,” Ena said, “that I believe an embrace might actually feel quite natural.”

“Ah, well,” Kurth managed for the second time that day. “In that case.”

And then her arms were around his shoulders, and he locked his around her middle, and they hugged until he lost track of time, until Rajaion squawked in a bid for attention. Kurth heard Ena laugh for the first time in years as she pulled away to pick him up.

“I expect I'll see you again in an hour, Lord Kurth?”

“I have not visited _quite_ so often,” he protested at her teasing.

But as he left them, he decided he'd take her up on it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the Rajaion Jr. content because that made it WAY easy to pop your (not-quite-)OC in there, bahaha.


End file.
